Sly Cooper and the Treasure of Monkey Island
by Seijax
Summary: When Sly tries to steal an artifact from an infamous pirate he gets more than he bargained for when the artifact sends him and Carmelita to a strange world. Now he's trapped in a human body and has to rely on his new friends, Guybrush and Elaine Threepwood, to set things right before the change becomes permanent.
1. From the Pages of the Thievius Raccoonus

Rating: T

Setting/Spoilers: The Sly Cooper half of the story is set after the first game. The Monkey Island half is set after Tales of Monkey Island. I do have a reason for doing this, I promise. There will be some spoilers for Curse of Monkey Island, but other than that the other games will mostly get some references. Also, the Sly Cooper half will dovetail into another fic I am planning, but that will come about later, so the prologue here is a little misleading.

Warnings: Ah, the fun part. Not much more than what's in the games, although this story is going to be a bit more violent. I can't help it, I've always written whump-fic. There will also be a fair amount of suspense, including cliffhangers, in the chapters to come. The prologue may start a bit slow, but I promise things will pick up from there.

Disclaimer: Sly Cooper and Monkey Island belong to their respective creators and owners. This story is a work of fanfiction written for no profit, and no infringement is intended.

Well, I don't think you want anything else from me. So on to the story! Enjoy!

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**Prologue: From the Pages of the Thievius Raccoonus**

_The life of a master thief. I'd like to say it's been nothing but adventure and excitement since Clockwerk's defeat, but I'd be lying. Knock down one criminal kingpin and five others rise up to take his place. And the gang and I...well, we'd taken out the Fiendish Five. There were now five very big sets of shoes empty, and every two-bit thug who had ever worked with the Five were jockeying to fill them._

_In other words, the world was ripe for the Cooper name. So many would-be crimelords gathering their wealth and resources to fight out all the others for a spot at the top. It was the perfect time to practice the skills I'd learned from the _Thievius Raccoonus_. We even helped tie up a few loose ends for Interpol along the way (though not too many...wouldn't want the good inspector to get sloppy, would we?)._

_And now, almost two years have passed since Clockwerk's final defeat at Krack-Karov volcano. Bentley and Murray have gotten a taste for adventure, and have been training to be better in the field. Bentley's been brushing up on his hacking skills by tapping into some of the biggest and most corrupt companies in the world. We've found more leads than I ever thought possible thanks to his computer skills. And Murray...well, Murray's been taking "self-defense" classes from a retired pro wrestler. He says it's so he won't be a burden to us anymore, but I know he's enjoying himself. _

_We were targeting a local counterfeit artist when Bentley turned up a strange lead from the Interpol database. It was a file simply titled "Cooper Artifacts". Someone at Interpol was researching my family history. The file had information about the signature items my family had carried over the years. The cane was a recent change-every few generations one Cooper or another would modify the family symbol for their own thieving style. I knew all of this from reading the _Thievius Raccoonus_, but according to this file many of __those items were still out there._

_I'm not sure how many of my ancestors fell to Clockwerk over the past few centuries, but it seemed like not all of them were able to pass their symbols on before they died. A few had wound up in private collections, mostly owned by criminals, but most were simply lost (unless there was some massive treasure vault somewhere that held the accumulated wealth of the Cooper clan, but how likely was that?)._

_So it was decided: the gang and I would go after these lost artifacts and restore them to the Cooper name. _

_Bentley zeroed in on our first target: the cutlass of Henrietta "One-Eye" Cooper. She had stolen from notorious pirates and corrupt British officers on the Caribbean seas, always carrying as her trademark two cutlasses in the shape of the Cooper emblem._

_Somehow, one of these cutlasses had wound up in the hands of a modern-day pirate named Charles Boehr. Now my gang and I were going to get it back._

_We were off for Scupper Island._

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**_To be Continued..._**

_Next Chapter: An Interrupted Reunion. Wherein everything goes according to plan. Yeah, sure, when has that ever happened?_


	2. An Unexpected Reunion

_Woo-hoo! Four hits and one favorite! Lot more than I thought I'd be getting for an improbable crossover. Very special thanks to gamer097 for favoriting my little story._

_The action starts to pick up here. We'll start seeing the Monkey Island crew next chapter._

_Enjoy!_

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**Chapter One: An Interrupted Reunion.**

_Scupper Island, 10:53 PM_

"Bentley, are you sure this is the place?" Sly, hanging in the top branches of one of the many trees that dotted Scupper Island, focused his binoc-u-com on the dilapidated mansion at the top of the hill. "It's all overgrown—no way some legendary pirate thief king lives there."

"I'm ninety-seven percent certain," Bentley's voice echoed over the 'com. He sounded like he'd gotten over his seasickness—Murray had been a little enthusiastic in maneuvering the speedboat. "I know the place looks uninhabited, but there's more to it. Charles Boehr is no fool. According to my research, he has a secret entrance through the maintenance shed at the back of the property that leads to an underground tunnel. Only someone with my superior hacking skills could have discovered his location."

"Yeah, I know. It just looks so…deserted." Sly zoomed in to study the mansion a bit more. Broken shutters hung over the windows, the front walk was a mess of broken paving stones, and the fence that surrounded the property had rotted through in the humid Caribbean environment.

"That's the beauty of it," Bentley replied. He sounded smug. "Any regular thief would take one look at this place and chalk it up as abandoned. But you're a _master_ thief. You know there's more to this than meets the eye."

The raccoon shivered. Bentley was right about one thing. Despite giving off the aura of an abandoned property, there was something off about the house. Something Sly's thief senses were picking up that his eyes hadn't caught up to yet. "Whoa, looks like we've got a trail," he focused in on a worn path reaching around to the back of the house. It was narrow, just wide enough for one person, but obviously well-used. "Yeah, this place is inhabited all right. Those tracks are recent."

"Just be careful, Sly. I couldn't find any information about this Captain Boehr. It's almost like he just appeared out of nowhere and started building himself an empire. None of my contacts on Thiefnet had even heard of him until nine months ago."

Yeah, that was strange. That was probably what seemed off about this. For a guy who was supposed to be the greatest pirate captain in the Caribbean, he had a disturbingly low profile. "You worry too much. I'm going in for a closer look." After all, the guy was only mortal—how bad could it be?

"Don't forget to take some photos with your binoc-u-com. I'll need anything you can find on the security system, especially Boehr's treasure room and his guard details, if he has any. And see if you can get a picture of Boehr himself. I'm only reading one life-sign in the house, so he should be pretty easy to find."

"Of course," Sly nodded, his mind already racing through ways to enter the mansion. The front door was off the list, as well as whatever entrance lay at the end of that trail. Somebody paranoid enough to hide the entrance to his own house undoubtedly had all the usual ways blocked. But most security systems had a weak spot, and it was Sly's job to exploit it.

Sly slipped closer to the mansion, keeping an eye out for traps and alarms. There had been no sign of guards, and that in itself was pretty strange. If rumors were to be believed, Captain Boehr had already amassed a fortune in gold and precious jewels, at the cost of several lives. That kind of loot in the hands of someone as ruthless as that had to have some kind of guard around it.

A prickly feeling on the back of his neck was all the warning Sly got—though after years of thieving it was more than enough. He threw himself to one side and rolled into the underbrush just in time to avoid…something.

"Sly! SLY! What's going on? Are you all right?"

Sly triggered his 'com, panning the scope around to find whatever had almost hit him. "I don't know. Something moving fast…I had just enough time to duck." It wasn't a laser…but something about that beam had looked familiar.

"I-I don't know about this, Sly. Maybe it's time to pull back and regroup."

"Come on, Bentley," Sly snorted. He'd found a scary-looking mask in one of the bushes, its eyes glowing the same shade as the beam that had nearly toasted the raccoon. "I'm already this far in, and now I know what to look for. See?" He focused his 'com on the mask. It was similar to the ones he'd seen in Haiti when they faced off against Miz Ruby. That blast of light had been a voodoo boobytrap, easy to avoid once you knew what to look for. "Now we know why we haven't seen any guards. This guy's relying on voodoo to protect his property."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"It'll be fine. Trust me. This guy's not even close to Miz Ruby's level." Sly fought back a shudder. Now that was one creepy lady. It had taken days for his fur to stop frizzing out after facing her down in her voodoo Simon-says. If he never had to deal with another voodoo priestess again in his lifetime it would be too soon.

Bentley's sigh was a hiss of static over the 'com line. "All right, but promise me you'll clear out at the first sign of zombies."

"I promise." Sly didn't even try to keep the humor out of his voice, though it earned him a heavy sigh from his reptilian partner. Bentley was always trying to find something to worry about—he'd probably bring up the Caribbean flu and poison ivy next.

Now that he knew the type of security to look for, Sly was able to approach the mansion more quickly. Boehr's security was tricky, but he'd made the same fatal mistake most criminals make in their security systems: he'd settled on a theme. That made it easy for Sly. The trapdoor under the picture window, the breakaway vines on the south wall, the collapsing windowsill on the third story, and the re-animated vulture statues along the roofline. Once he knew what to look for the booby traps were as obvious as a tourist in Paris.

Sly hooked his cane around the remains of one of the vulture statues and lowered himself down to face a small vent window at the top level of the mansion. "Made it to the roof. No sign of guards so far, so it looks like the attic is the best option." He brought his 'com up to his eyes and switched over to infra-red, checking for lasers. The vent window was small, barely big enough to accommodate a raccoon thief, so it was unlikely that it was alarmed.

"Just be careful. I know I saw some poison ivy on your way in. Oh, I'm itching just thinking about it."

"Don't worry; I'll wash my hands when I get back." The ledge was just wide enough to stand on, so Sly was able to slip his cane free and use it to pry the vent window open. "No lasers, no alarms…piece of cake." It was a tight fit, but no problem for a master thief. Bentley and Murray would never be able to make this entrance, so he'd have to find another way to let them in when the time came.

Sly dropped through the window to the attic floor. Boehr's security was undoubtedly tighter on the lower floors of the house, but up here in the attic things were pretty much clear. A few lasers crisscrossed through the room, and the door was clearly rigged with some sort of sensor, but that was practically no security for a master raccoon thief.

The sensor for the door was inside the attic, pointed at the door. Boehr probably hadn't figured on anyone breaking _in_ through the attic, so that particular feature was to keep someone from breaking _out_. It was a voodoo-thingy pointed at the door to catch anyone opening it from the other side and blast them down the stairs. Sly just turned it so it faced the wall and he was through.

The trip downstairs was fairly uneventful. Security was surprisingly low-tech. Lots of voodoo masks and old-fashioned tripwires, and a few lasers here and there, but there were no sirens. No spotlight-machine gun fixtures that make up most bad guys' arsenal. And no armed guards (zombie or otherwise).

"Bentley, do you copy?"

"I'm here, Sly. What's going on?"

"This is really weird. Take a look." He brought his 'com up and scanned through the main hall of the house. Apart from the lasers on the windows and a steel plate behind the front door, the entire mansion had been fitted with décor and booby traps right out of the eighteenth century. "This guy must love antiques."

"Huh. That's strange. Any sign of a computer?"

"Nothing. I don't think he has any electricity except what's powering those lasers."

"I've got a really bad feeling about this, Sly."

"You've always got a bad feeling."

"I mean it." Bentley was more agitated than usual. "This could be a trap."

"What kind of trap could it be? It's not like he was expecting us…oh, wait," Sly's ears perked up. Someone was coming down the hall. "I hear someone…hang on, I'll get to a good spot where we can see."

"Be careful."

"Just keep recording. Going to radio silence," Sly tucked his 'com away and swung up to a nearby chandelier. He could definitely hear two distinct voices, and now they were close enough for him to pick out what they were talking about.

"I appreciate yer concern, but I don't think I'm in any danger from this Carter thief." That voice was deep, almost melodious.

"It's _Cooper_, and I think you're wrong." Ah, yes, those dulcet tones were familiar. His favorite Interpol inspector: Carmelita Fox. Aw, still chasing him after all these years.

"But what could he possibly gain from coming here?" the other voice had to belong to Captain Boehr. He was laughing now, probably under the mistaken assumption that his treasure was safe from the Cooper Gang. How many criminals had thought that over the years, only to have their vaults cleaned out by a Cooper.

"I hear you've recently acquired a diamond tiara from a treasure ship that sank over two hundred years ago."

"Oh…er, Inspector, all of my possessions have been acquired through legal means."

"Calm down, Captain, I'm not here to arrest you." Though it was unspoken, all present could hear the word "yet" ringing in Carmelita's voice. "I just wanted to warn you that that tiara is exactly the sort of thing Cooper targets."

The two finally came into view. Yes, there was Inspector Fox, as beautiful and deadly as ever. So the man with her must be the fabled Charles Boehr. He looked every inch the pirate he was rumored to be. He was a boar, with a broad snout and dangerous-looking tusks. He was easily bigger than Murray, possibly even bigger than the Panda King, but none of it was fat. Sly could see the corded muscles in the pirate's arms, arms that were bigger around than Sly's waist. He obviously wasn't the sort of pirate that let his crew do all the pillaging. Those arms could probably tear down the mast of one of his victim's ships. To top it all off, Boehr was dressed in full pirate regalia, like a relic out of an old movie, right down to the snazzy red coat and oversized pirate hat.

What did they call those hats, anyway? Bentley would probably know.

The worst part, though, was the cutlass he had strapped to his side. It wasn't one of Henrietta's golden cutlasses, but even from a distance Sly could tell that the blade was kept sharp and the cutlass well-worn. So maybe there was more to his pirate claims—a blade like that could only have seen battle.

"Sly, what's going on?" Bentley's voice hissed in the earpiece.

Sly slipped his 'com free and zoomed in on the two as they stopped under the chandelier. He couldn't risk saying anything to Bentley—even a whisper would echo in this room—but the turtle's connection to the 'com's camera would let him see and hear it all. The inspector was trying to convince Boehr to accept a contingent of guards to help him protect the mansion, and Boehr was trying to refuse without sounding like a pirate thief intent on plundering the Caribbean for all it was worth.

But obviously Boehr was loaded. Looped around the crown of his ornate pirate hat was a golden medallion on a chain. It was in the shape of a monkey and encrusted with rubies and diamonds—the sort of thing collectors on Thiefnet were always looking for. That medallion could bring in enough coins to fund their entire operation.

It was calling to him. Sly couldn't resist. He lowered himself down through the chandelier carefully, hooking the tip of his cane through a link in the medallion's chain. He was confident that Boehr's hat would shield him from view, and once he was back up the chandelier chain it would be an easy trip back out of the attic window.

"Sly! You have to get out of there!" Bentley's voice shattered Sly's concentration at the worst possible moment. He wobbled, tightening his grip on the cane to keep the medallion from falling. "I've tried to recalibrate my sensors, but they say the same thing! _There's only one life-sign in that house!_"

Sly hesitated. _One life-sign?_

The hat beneath him moved and he found himself staring into Boehr's eyes. Sheer hatred and malevolence struck at Sly like a visible blow. The last time he had seen eyes like that had been in Russia...face-to-face with Clockwerk. "Hello, little thief."

A massive fist tangled in the chain of the medallion, and with one pull Boehr jerked Sly out of the chandelier.

"Cooper!" Carmelita sounded pissed. Her shock pistol's familiar whine filled the room as she raised her sights on the raccoon thief. "I've got you now!"

Sly unhooked his can from the medallion, dodged the first shot, and made a dash for the stairs. "Bentley! Get the bo—ah!" Stars exploded across Sly's vision and pain shot down his spine. He crumpled into a heap at the foot of the stairs, fighting to stay conscious. Suddenly weak, he tried to push himself up but his arms wouldn't work. It felt like every muscle in his body was spasming.

What the...that wasn't the shock pistol.

A massive hand caught him around the neck and hoisted him up. Boehr, his eyes literally glowing with a pale green light, sneered into Sly's face with an expression of ill-concealed glee. "As ye can see, Inspector, no need ta worry. I can take care o' intruders on me own."

"Maybe. I'll book him and we can continue our conversation once he's behind bars." Carmelita, shock pistol still in hand, was reaching for her handcuffs.

"Oh, I don't think so," Boehr swung his prize out of reach. Sly choked, scratching for purchase against the pirate's hand. "Ye see, I've been waitin' for him. I've got plans for this little thief."

That didn't sound good. Sly had made enough enemies to know that _plans _were never a good thing. He swung the cane at his captor as hard as he could, catching the boar in the throat. It wasn't enough to do any kind of serious damage (did this guy have muscle everywhere?), but it did make him gag and relax his grip.

Sly twisted free. The inspector was telling him to stop, and fired shot after shot in his direction. He bolted for the stairs again, forcing his legs to move despite the lingering numbness. Sly was fast: even in this condition he knew he'd be able to outdistance Boehr, especially going upstairs. Then there was that attic window—no way the pirate could fit through that.

He leapt over the railing, catching the chandelier's chain to hurtle himself up another half-story. He could hear Inspector Fox on the ground floor, and Boehr's heavy footsteps still an entire story behind him. Then something slammed into his back and knocked him against the wall. "Hello again, little thief."

No way. There had still been a flight and a half of stairs between them. No way Boehr could move that fast. Something was seriously off about this guy.

"Don't cause more trouble for me," the pirate seethed. One hand pinned Sly to the wall by his neck, the other twisted his arms behind him. "I have a very special journey planned for just the two of us, but it doesn't matter whether ye arrive in one piece or _many_." Boehr slammed Sly's head against the wall for emphasis.

He could hear Bentley screaming over the 'com, and Carmelita was charging up the steps with her shock pistol in hand, no doubt to pry her prisoner away from the psychopathic pirate's hands.

Boehr barked out a chant in a strange language and a circle of green flames sprung up around the pirate and the thief. His voice grew in power as he chanted until the house itself was shuddering, the chandelier shaking free of its bolts. Sly grit his teeth as his body spasmed again, burning and freezing at the same time, and Boehr's fingers ground deeper into his neck. He could still hear Carmelita's voice through the ringing in his ears, even as a sudden bolt of power flooded the room and shattered the windows.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her lunge, shoulder lowered to barrel into Boehr and knock him away from Sly.

Then the flames closed in and everything went black.

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_Bwahahahaha! Ahem...sorry about that (not really). _

_Next Chapter: Allies and Enemies. Deep in the Caribbean...Carmelita finds an ally and Sly accidentally makes an enemy. And who is Charles Boehr and what does he want from our favorite master thief?_


End file.
